


you set my soul alight

by ivermectin



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Banter, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humour, M/M, POV Dan Humphrey, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, but like: the dan & nate genre of it, but this is dan pov so we'll never know!, dan singing in falsetto MIGHT just be nate's kink, i would tag this pwp but the porn IS the plot, ie: it is debatable how funny any of this is, it made me laugh so hey there is that!!, nate brings out the himbo in dan, that is my favourite thing about the dan/nate dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivermectin/pseuds/ivermectin
Summary: “Can you like, not talk about my dad right now?” Dan asks, frowning. “I’m trying to fuck you.”
Relationships: Nate Archibald/Dan Humphrey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	you set my soul alight

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Supermassive Black Hole by Muse, the song that they bone to, also the reason this fic even exists. I was listening to it, and I was like, "hmm, in terms of vibes, this sounds like something they would have sex to," and then I might've overdone it. No regrets! :)

Somehow, it ends up at this. Dan and Nate, sitting on a blanket on the floor in Nate’s Columbia single, passing a joint back and forth while they add songs to the playlist they’re listening to. Dan’s been cheating, putting classic rock and hits from the ‘60s, from the ‘70s, music that he’d only found through his dad. Surprisingly, Nate is keeping up, matching him song for song.

After a point, though, they’re pleasantly buzzed enough that any pattern or competition they’d had to songs being added goes shamelessly out of the window. Pop songs they’d heard on the radio, Russian music, folk instrumentals, Disney channel hit songs from the ‘90s, Shakira… everything is fair game. They play _everything_.

Which is why Dan doesn’t even think twice, leaning against Nate, adding _Supermassive Black Hole_ to the playlist. He isn’t expecting Nate to sit up so suddenly that his shoulder smashes against Dan’s chin, to say, “Dude, I _love_ this song,” and take the iPod, stopping the playlist in favour of playing the song on repeat.

“Right?” Dan smiles. He feels warm inside, not really high enough that he’s incoherent, just pleasantly floaty, and everywhere his body’s touching Nate feels warm, tethered and secure. “It’s such a good song.”

“Instrumentally, vocally, in terms of the _energy_ of it, it’s a _perfect_ song,” Nate says enthusiastically. “Like, all elements of it just come together in such a good way. It’s very alive, you know? Listening to it _does_ something to you.”

Dan nods, agreeing, because Nate’s right. And he thinks, _damn_ , he understands maybe, what Vanessa found so attractive about Nate, because there’s something so endearing about Nate being just as profound and passionate about things as Dan and Vanessa are, as they’ve always been. Dan’s learnt, over and over again, not to underestimate Nate, but he’s still surprised.

Maybe it’s the surprise that gives him the courage to say it, or maybe it’s just how candid their friendship has always been, but Dan says, quietly, looking at Nate, “I’ve always wanted to have sex to this song.”

Nate’s eyes widen, and he puts a hand on Dan’s arm. Dan is acutely aware of the warmth of it, Nate’s touch electric.

“Bro, no _way_ ,” Nate says. “Me too! It’s on my bucket list.”

Dan and Nate look at each other, and the moment feels charged, heavy. Dan swallows, slightly afraid to do anything with it. Nate’s one of the best friends he’s ever had; if they fuck, that has the potential to change things, and there won’t be a way to go back from it.

Nate has no such qualms. Decision made, he stubs out the joint he’s holding, puts it in the ashtray, leans forward, kisses Dan in a way that is careful yet not chaste. It’s a kiss with impact and force behind it that is still startlingly gentle.

Dan kisses back, shifting his body to lean against Nate’s, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of Nate’s head, the other pressing against Nate’s lower back, holding him in place.

From there, it’s easy. Almost _too_ easy. Nate makes quick work of Dan’s shirt, runs his hands down Dan’s skin, kissing him like he’s wanted to, been wanting to, for a long time. Dan gasps, smiling without even meaning to, at the music blaring in the background, like a cocoon that contains the two of them, the sounds of the vocalist making noises which are not unlike sex noises, except objectively and musically melodic.

Maybe Nate’s having the same thoughts, because he whispers, “Supermassive Black Hole,” in Dan’s ear in time with the music, his voice raspy and rough and lower than Dan knew it could go, his breath warm in a way that Dan is acutely aware of. It’s hotter than it has any business being; Dan feels turned on and a little like he’s floating. 

Still, not to be outdone, Dan joins in, singing the refrain about the glaciers melting, taking Nate’s clothes off, making quick work of his belt, slipping a hand into his boxers.

“You’re a great singer,” Nate says, quietly. It sobers the mood for a moment. “Better than your dad, even. You should be a rockstar.”

“Can you like, not talk about my dad right now?” Dan asks, frowning. “I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Lube’s in the drawer,” Nate says, leaning over Dan, putting an arm over his shoulder, opening the drawer expertly, getting the lube out, handing it to him. “Just fingers, okay?”

“Mmhm,” Dan says, opening the bottle. “Any other requests?”

Nate smirks, and Dan thinks he’d been so stupid, thinking that having sex with Nate was going to damage their friendship in any way. Their friendship is sturdy, and their friendship will always come first. If anything, they’re adding to the solid foundation of it. They’re not taking anything away.

“Sing along to it,” Nate says, and Dan can’t tell if Nate’s being serious or not, because he’s smiling, but he’s looking at Dan with focused intent.

“No, I’m too sober for that,” Dan says. But Nate’s gaze on his is keen, and Dan’s always been bad at saying no to him – at saying no to any of his friends, especially the pretty ones, and on top of all that, Nate isn’t just any of Dan’s friends; he’s Dan’s best friend. Dan’s never had a friend like him before, and he never stops being aware of it, never stops being grateful that Nate’s in his life, that he is somehow Nate’s friend, too.

So he sings bits of it, crooning along in falsetto as he preps Nate and enters him with his fingers. Nate’s positioned half-on Dan’s lap and half-off it, and Dan leans forward, letting his lips graze Nate’s ear as he sings softly, at the same time, focusing on what his hands are doing, where his fingers are. Gradually, timing it with the lyrics, because he’s a little shit, he adds a finger, then two, then three, and fucks Nate at the pace of the song.

“You’re _good_ ,” Nate says shakily, sounding a little choked. When Dan looks at him, he’s startled to see that Nate looks wrecked in a very post-sex way, his face full of colour, lips bitten and wet, his eyes too bright, his hair a mess. Dan thinks distractedly that he’s never seen anyone look this beautiful before.

“What, is my mediocre singing doing it for you?” Dan asks, laughing.

Nate’s hands shift, palms pressed flat against Dan’s back. He doesn’t answer verbally, but he kisses Dan, pressing their foreheads together as he uses his hands to hold Dan in place. He only stops kissing, abruptly, as he comes, moving his mouth away from Dan’s, exhaling with a hint of exhaustion to it.

Dan puts his clean hand around Nate, holding him, and extracts his other hand, ready to get up from where he’s sitting to wash his hands and return, but Nate’s grip on him is firm.

“I’m not done with you,” Nate says, but he’s smiling, and it’s not a threat as much as it is a promise.

“Wouldn’t you rather, uh, do whatever you want to do with me once my hands are clean?” Dan asks.

“Good point,” Nate says.

When Dan gets back, barely ten seconds later, it’s to see Nate sitting up, watching him drowsily.

“I think this song’s about blowjobs,” Nate says.

“ _And the superstars sucked into the super massive,_ ” Dan sings along, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

“Go on, go on, don’t stop singing on my account,” Nate says.

“I only _started_ singing on your account,” Dan points out, but he indulges Nate anyway, singing the whole _I thought I was a fool for no-one, but oh baby, I’m a fool for you,_ and Nate shifts, pulling Dan’s boxers aside, kissing Dan’s stomach.

Dan goes on singing, doing the melodic moaning, just to fuck with Nate, all _ooooooh, aaaaaaah, aaaah, you set my soul alight,_ but the joke is on him, because Nate chooses that moment to swallow him in one, practiced, fluid movement.

 _Fuck_ , Dan thinks, and unfortunately, the moaning he’d been singing _in key_ turns more into an actual scream.

Dan puts his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he says to Nate, and he can feel Nate laugh around his dick.

Dan doesn’t hate Nate, though, not even a little. He puts his hand on Nate’s head, running his fingers through the silky golden brown strands, all shampoo commercial glowy, tries not to feel strangely out of it. Nate’s eyes are focusing on Dan’s, watching him with clear intent, and Dan feels oddly naked, which – naked isn’t the right adjective, obviously, given the circumstances. But he feels _truly_ seen, and it’s a little disorienting.

Once it’s done, once Nate’s wiped the come off his chin and brushed his teeth and returned, he and Dan lie down on the bed. It’s not awkward at all; it feels just like the aftermath of a soccer game in which their team has won, or something like that. They’re both content and comfortable.

“Dude,” Nate says, eventually. “I think we ruined this song for ourselves. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear it again without thinking of your dick.”

Dan reaches for the iPod, puts repeat off, puts it on shuffle and lets it play whatever it wants to. Still, he can’t let Nate’s comment go unanswered, so he asks, incredulous, “My _dick_? I sang so many lyrics for you, and your takeaway from this is limited to my _penis?”_

“Well, we were having sex,” Nate points out reasonably. But he presses a kiss to Dan’s Adam’s apple, and he laughs, and Dan can’t help laughing, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I was so tired while posting this that I almost tagged it Dan Archibald/Nate Humphrey without seeing anything wrong about it, which I think is VERY valid of me :o)


End file.
